


Nightly Visitors

by cold_nights_summer_days



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker centric, Peter Parker has a nightlight, Precious Peter Parker, and it helps him sleep so dont judge, cant you tell?, im such a slut for that trope, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_nights_summer_days/pseuds/cold_nights_summer_days
Summary: Just my collection of nightmare fics, so that I have a place to stick them all. Tags will be added as more are posted. Always shows as complete because I don't have a set update schedule on this story and each chapter works as a standalone.---Chapter One; NightlightChapter Two: Spanish Class





	1. Nightlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bucket_1917](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bucket_1917/gifts).



> Hi! Thank you for choosing to read this; all comments and criticism are welcome as per usual. Much love to you all lovely readers!

Peter’s room was dark, save for the sliver of light cast by the street lamps outside his and May’s apartment building. Peter found solace in the dark most nights, but right now it felt oppressive. He had had yet another nightmare of the night the Vulture crushed him under a building and the dark was one more thing that reminded him of that dreadful night. Fuck Homecoming. Peter wasn’t sure he was ever going to go to another school dance again. 

The light from the street lamps wasn’t enough to chase away the demons still lurking the corners of his mind. He didn’t want to turn on the bedroom light because it would only remind him how messy his room was and show him the unfinished calculus homework on his desk. Plus, he did still want to salvage some of his sleep, and he couldn’t do that with a bright light. 

Peter glanced around his room for a solution to his problem, his eyes settling on the bottom drawer of his desk. It was full of random things and he figured that if he had a nightlight, it was certainly in that drawer. There was so much stuff in it that Peter was sure if he dug hard enough, he might even find some of his sanity. A boy could dream, at least. 

The night air was cold against Peter’s body and he regretted getting out of bed as soon as he had done it. Maybe it would have been easier to just stay in bed. After a few minutes worth of emptying the drawer, he had come across the solution to his problem; the nightlight May had bought him when he was eight. Peter had shoved it into the drawer when he was twelve and “too old to be scared of the dark”. Guess I was wrong, Peter thought darkly. To be fair, that was before he became Spider-man and had a warehouse dropped on his head. 

The nightlight was an Iron Man mask that glowed a soft blue through the eyes. It made Peter blush. That had been shortly after the Expo when Peter wouldn’t shut up about the fact that Iron Man talked to him, of all people. May still brought it up from time to time but he made her promise that she wouldn’t tell Mr. Stark. He was pretty sure that she had though, because the other day he had forgotten something in his room when Mr. Stark was there to pick him up for a weekend trip to the compound, and when he came back in the living room, he caught Mr. Stark laughing and May looking slightly guilty. That whole weekend he had to listen to offhand comments about hero worship. 

Peter fumbled around for a moment when he tried to find the outlet next to the bed. He may be able to fight Captain America, but he still couldn’t find an outlet in relative darkness. Oh well. Guess you cant have everything, can you? 

The answer was decidedly no when Peter managed to zap himself because he was still touching the prongs when he shoved them into the wall. 

He climbed back into bed, the soft, blue glow of the nightlight filling the room. Maybe it was embarrassing that he still had his Iron Man night light from seven years ago, but if it helped him sleep, then he didn’t care. This was just one more thing he was going to have make May promise not to tell Mr. Stark; but May would think it was so cute that she would tell him anyway.


	2. Spanish Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, learning how to conjugate preterit Spanish verbs is very boring. So boring, in fact, that Peter falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Don't forget to comment ideas and criticism!

“-AR and -ER verbs don’t stem change in the preterit, though -IR verbs can but only in the ‘el, ella, usted’ and ‘ellos, ellas, ustedes’ forms.” Senora Wyen’s voice drawled, leaving every student half asleep or confused. It was hard enough when they had to learn regular stem changing verbs a month ago, and now they had to memorize these, too? Peter sighed. Spanish was his worst subject, and if he wasn’t too tired to keep his eyes open right now, he might be worried that he was going to fail. 

Suddenly, the hard, wooden desk in front of him looked like the world’s most comfortable pillow. Peter shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to stave off his exhaustion. If he could just make it to fifth period, he could take a nap during his study period. Then he wouldn’t miss anything important or have to go to detention after school. 

“Also, they can only stem change to one letter. For example, take the word preferer. When conjugated in the present tense ‘el, ella, usted’ form, it becomes prefiere. The ‘e’ changed to ‘ie’. But in the preterit, the ‘e’ changes to ‘I’ and the word is prefirio.” 

As soon as Senora Wyen tried to explain the concept, Peter’s attempts to stay awake became futile. He hadn’t slept well for weeks between homework, patrol, and the nightmares he’d been having. It was also exhausting trying to hide his tiredness from May because Peter knew that if she found out, she would make him stop patrolling until he was better. So, he would just close his eyes for a minute now . . . that way he could focus better on what the teacher was trying to say. 

Peter slumped forwards on his desk. The paper he had previously been taking notes on slipped to the floor, but everyone around him was too out of it to notice. Just a couple of minutes. . . it’ll only be a couple of minutes. Peter repeated the words in his head as if that would make them true. When he lifted his head, he wasn’t in Senora Wyen’s Spanish class anymore. He was in a dark alley that reeked of refuse. Trash bags and discarded needles littered the ground. Peter raised his arm to cover his face to try and block the smell out, but it didn’t work. 

Just then, a man who looked eerily familiar was thrown against the wall and held there, a gun pressed against his abdomen. It was too dark to make out any of the man’s features, but Peter knew who he was. Peter also knew what was about to happen, but he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the concrete below him. 

“Give it to me!” The guy holding the gun growled, looking around them anxiously. He looked right through Peter as if he wasn’t even there. Though for all the good Peter was going to do, he may as well not have been there at all. When the man held against the wall remained quiet, the assailant pressed the gun harder into his body, the man winced. Peter wanted to scream.

“I said give me the money!” 

“I cant. I don’t have any.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

Peter knew the man wasn’t lying. He had just given the rest of the money he had to Peter so he could go on a school field trip that day. It was a field trip to the Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space museum in Hudson Terrace. Peter had been so excited to go that he had forgotten his permission slip at home and May had to bring it to him. 

“I- I swear. I don’t have any money.” When the man denied having money again, the assailant moved his finger to the trigger of the gun. 

“No, no, no! Don’t shoot him, please, you ca-“The rest of Peter’s sentence was cut off by the ring of a gunshot. The man slumped to the ground, and his shooter ran the other direction. 

Peter jerked awake, knocking his pencil to the ground where it joined his stem changing verb notes. The sound of the gunshot was still ringing in his ears. He could feel the tears cutting tracks down his face while his heart raced so fast he thought he might have a heart attack. Peter’s face turned bright red when he realized the class room was silent as the students and the teacher were staring at him in shock. For once, even Flash had nothing to say. 

And then the whispering started. Since his senses were dialed to eleven, he heard every word.

“I knew he was messed up, but wow, that was intense.”

“Who do you think he was screaming for? Who was getting shot?”

“It was probably his uncle; don’t you remember that on the news last year?” 

“I always knew there was something up with him.”

“Did he have a nightmare?”

Peter stood, tears still flowing, and quietly walked to the door. He didn’t bother excusing himself before leaving the class, and all his schoolwork, behind.


End file.
